


Hidden in the Rubble

by Svartalfar_Maddie



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aliens, Dark Elf- OC, Dark Elves, Dragon God, Dragon Goddess, Equality, F/M, Hatred, Jotunheim, Rebellion, Revolution, Romance, Soldiers, Svartalfheim, dragon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:29:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2443790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svartalfar_Maddie/pseuds/Svartalfar_Maddie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knowing the secrets of Jotunheim is dangerous enough, but having the core of the Svartalfheim Empire unravel in front of her very feet? Priceless. </p>
<p>When one Dark Elf decides to place itself in the center of Ari Dark-Wing's life, family is not to be trusted and rebellion flourishes. Will the Empire fall on its knees, or vise versa?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why Me?

16-year-old Ari leaped down the corridors, her magenta cloak fluttering in the wind. Utgard was as it always was; glacial, covered by twilight, yet never ceasing to amaze its visitors by the stalagmites and stalactites that made up the stunning architectures. The snow eagles were especially active today. They were soaring through the cracks in the ice, not caring whether the weekly blizzards were lively. Nothing was going to ruin this day for Ari- today was the Blodisen Ceremony.

The Blodisen Festival stood for "Blood Ice Festival". It was a time when the strongest warriors would compete in battle to honor their current monarch. Their present king was a proud Jotun, Miraak. Although many Frost Giants enjoyed such blood and glory, Miraak had to hold the ceremony once every five years. Miraak was a young king, so this was his first time celebrating Blodisen.

Miraak was not only the king, he was also Ari's father.

Ari had only been a child when she first went, therefor she remembered almost naught of its elegance. Even though she was unable to summon up any Blodisen memories, the thought of it always brought a smile to her lavender mouth. Stories of the fights held in the Blodisen Festival Arena were always music to Ari's ears. She loved to hear the epics of how the warrior's razor-sharp ice swords would collide and would end in colossal bloodshed.

The gossips of such heroes only made Ari's desire to battle grow. That was basically what all Frost Giants wanted; they all wished to fight.

She was not a fan of the long hallways that intertwined throughout the castle. Even after walking the maze every day, there were still moments where she would completely lose her sense of direction. Worst of all, all the hallways looked the exact same; guards that were so still that it was almost alarming stood at every single doorway. The only pathways that she remembered was the way to her room, her brothers' room, and the king and queens room. She couldn't recall a day where it wasn't nigh unmanageable to slip out of the building without making a wrong turn.

Glorious snow eagles soared through and around the enormous entryway to the Blodisen Arena. Kjer sat along a wall to Ari's left, stroking a possessed eagle that rested atop his shoulders. "Hello, my sister. I see that you have chosen this... warrior apparel. Do you plan to cause bloodshed?" Kjer asked. "No, not really. I was just hoping to blend in with the occasion as all," she replied. Her older brother slid down the arched wall, and the snow eagle fled from its owner. His aqua skin glittered sky-blue in the morning sunshine, as did his long, braided, raven hair. He was garbed in a brown leather tunic, fuzzy snow boots, and his horns were painted to depict the colors of blood and combat- particularly Blodisen paints.

Kjer was a rather slender Frost Giant, 8 feet to be exact. Although he was a giant, his agility and stamina were impeccable. His lengthy black hair was usually slicked back or done up in some traditional Jotun fashion. His skin was flawless; no freckles, bruises, scrapes, or burns. The intricate markings along his skin indicated that he was of the royal family- all Frost Giants were born with patterns on them just as zebras would their stripes.

At that moment, Ari smelled the mouthwatering delicacies and icy goods of the Blodisen Market. The entrance to the marketplace was ornamented with red, gold, and navy blue flags that stood atop of the welcoming Blodisen arch. Two statue-like guards stood at the entry, unblinking and motionless. They two were attired in Blodisen clothing. Ari loved the market already. The first shop they came to was selling fresh salmon and other appetizing sea creatures that were coated in additional herbs. So this is the marketplace that I have been hearing of, Ari considered. All in all, the shops were beyond splendor.

As she and Kjer ventured the large marketplace, they saw items that were foreigners to their young eyes. The closer they got to the heart of the marketplace, the more outlandish gadgets greeted them. At one point, they came across an aviary that was filled with exotic birds; specifically phoenixes, thunderbirds, and peacocks.

Children dashed about the shops, occasionally yelling things in their native language, Jotun. Across from Kjer, a couple of poor beggars asked him for food and money, their horns twisted and cracked. To the right of an old beggar was a needy woman who only wore a mere blanket and bared only one curled horn, the other must have cracked off. Kjer, feeling bad for the woman, supplied her with a small sack of cobalt coins. "Thank you, kind sir," she uttered, her ruby eyes gleaming in the dim glow of dawn. "Anything for the needy," he replied thoughtfully with a caring smile.

The shops came in all colors; scarlet, blue, auburn, gold, silver, and everything else known to exist. It was almost impossible to not get distracted while locating the arena, such as the castle hallways. Never in all the nine realms has Ari ever experienced a festival such as the Blodisen Festival.

If anybody other than native Jotuns came, they would be bewildered by the Aztec-like society that flowed through the veins of Jotunheim. At night, many forest dwellers would build large bonfires and sacrifice meat to worship their beloved gods. As for the Blodisen Festival, it was overloaded with as much culture as possible.

"Ari! Ari, over here!" Kjer shouted, pointing to a small, charmed trinket shop. Ari must have been too distracted by the enthralling scenery of an art gallery to notice Kjer. As time went on, the crowd grew into a gargantuan beast that swallowed all who dared to come near. Kjer shouted again, suddenly reaching out for her. At the moment, she didn't know what to think; it felt as if all the people were reaching out for something on her to grab.

She was being pushed and pulled, tossed and turned, grabbed and let go. The mass of Frost Giants was too much for young Ari to comprehend, much less control. _Where in the nine realms am I_? was the only thought that rushed through her head like a freight train. The next thing she saw was a blur of colors as she was thrown down by the opposing force.

Her vision spun as she hit the ground, worried faces glanced down at her. By then, Kjer was out of sight. Several kind hands reached down for her yet pulled back as the crowd flowed by.

In the distance- or slightly nearby as much as she could tell- she could still hear the shouts of her older brother, desperately digging around for her. Several people stumbled over her, bruising her delicate skin. " _Argh_!" was all she could manage to say as each Jotuns' foot crashed into her side.

All of the sudden, she was grabbed by at least seven hands; all of which were tugging at her body, threatening to bruise her further. First, she was gently lifted up off the frigid ground. The next thing she knew, she was apart from the rushing rapids of Frost Giants. Above her was Kjer, her younger brother, Shivan, and her friend, Larizeh. Their faces were all plastered in concern. "Ari, how in Laufey's sword did you get lost in the crowd? And why were you laying down?" Shivan questioned speedily. Shivan was still about 12 years old, so he had a habit of asking too many questions. "Your stupidity never ceases to amaze me," she snapped. Shivan narrowed his scarlet eyes. Larizeh gently helped her up. Larizeh was the same age as Ari but not nearly as brave; she was always a follower, willing to stay in the shadows of her friends.

"C'mon, lads. We can't just sit here all day and waste our time examining trinkets. We have to get to the arena; the fights are starting soon and father is expecting us," Kjer reminded them.

They all nodded our heads in agreement. "By the way, did you guys hear? Ektyn the Undefeated is returning to the arena! They say he's the biggest, baddest warrior you'll ever see. Not to mention his gigantic ice club. I mean like, did you even see the size of that thing? It's humongous!" Shivan said in a loud whisper. "No duh, Shivan," Larizeh giggled sarcastically. They each trekked through the crowd to a large, domelike building that was splattered in religious murals. Instead of the ordinary ice-blue bricks that made up a great portion of Utgard, the structure was constructed out of orange clay bricks, giving it a rundown look.

The entrance doors were wide open, festival visitors flooding into it. "Dont worry- Father told me that we were in seats 178 to 181, so we'll be right next to the throne," Kjer explained. The ceiling of the dome was made of open chains, enabling any objects to fly out of the arena roof. Searching for their seats, Shivan noticed a change in the warrior dugout; instead of 30 seats- one for each participating warrior of the day- there was 31. Ari and the rest soon noticed the miscounted seating. Why would they do that? Is something wrong, or what? Ari pondered on the thought of one extra fighter. What could possibly happen? Would there he an unexpected appearance or special guest? Had something gone wrong? What came next was something that would change Ari's life forever.

"Take your seats, citizens! The fights will begin shortly!" roared Miraak, the king of Jotunheim and also Ari, Shivan, and Kjer's father. Ari pushed through the isle, then to her row, which was already full of Frost Giants. Her friend and brothers followed closely behind her. Surprisingly, there were only two seats open. One random citizen had stolen one of the seats.

"Um, Kjer, i thought you reserved three seats for us," she questioned without looking back at him. "I did. Or, uh, I thought I did," he answered slowly.

"Excuse me, sir, but this seat was reserved for us," she politely told the man in her seat.

"What? That guard over there told me this was my seat."

"Well, as the princess of Jotunheim and daughter of Mirrak, I command you to hand over your seat to us three. I believe that these are our official seats."

"Excuse me, is there a problem, m'lady?" a nearby guard asked. "Why yes, there is. This man refuses to give up his seat to me even though we reserved these three seats."

"Actually, he may have a point. Your seat isn't over here, it's down there" -he pointed to a spot in the dugout- "in the warrior zone." _Absolutely impossible_ , she thought, _Why do I have to go down there?_


	2. Unexpected Voilence

 "Now introducing, from the mountainous land of the Storm Giants, Thiassi the Storm Giant sorcerer!"

The entire stadium roared with joy and anxiety. Save for Ari Dark-Wing.

She was horribly pale from worry. Just after the argument with the Jotun who refused to give up her seat, then finding out that she was in the warrior dugout, Miraak assured her that she would be sitting with the warriors. Not only that, but she would be fighting with the warriors. In front of everybody. Her stomach churned with dread as each warrior was called into the fighting rink; minute by minute, she could feel her fight coming closer. She didn't even have a weapon or shield to defend herself. What could possibly happen? What was Miraak, her beloved father, planning for her? Would it be the usual "fight to the death" or just a small quarrel?

No matter what the case was, she would be fighting in front of the entire Blodisen Festival and there was no doubt about it. Perhaps _I'm just overreacting_ , she thought, _Miraak would never put me against one of the realm's best sword-wielding brutes_!

Snapping back to life, she grabbed onto her mucky seat and pushed herself upright. Her nails were sinking deep into the cushioned leather underneath the chair. Tears ran warm lines down her slender face and dripped onto the polished stone floor. She couldn't believe her nonsense; all her 16-year-old life, she's wanted to fight against monsters and defend what is rightfully hers. It seemed foolish to be crying over something that she wanted her entire life.

She decided to pay more attention to the current fighters rather than worry about what was to become of her. The fight between Thiassi the Storm Giant and his opponent had already begun. She knew Thiassi quite well, so she often asked him about his current necromancy potions and projects. He was most unusual in a Frost Giants eye; Storm Giants often had long, flowing, white hair and purplish skin. Sometimes, even Ari wondered if she was a Storm Giant due to her violet skin. But Storm Giants had a much deeper shade of purple, more like an indigo. Their silver or white hair was common to their species, unlike the Frost Giants, who were adorned with a darker range of colors such as black, brown, or dark blonde.

He fought with such elegance that it almost seemed as if he was dancing. His lengthy hair whisked through the air like clouds on a windy day. Unlike the other warriors, he handled no weapon. All he dared to use was sorcery, never even touching his opponent once. Yes, he was the most skilled sorcerer in Jotunheim, but she still worried about him getting injured. He always seemed like her uncle, usually because she hung out with him while he was assembling potions and he always seemed to be there for her. " _OOOOOOOH_ ," the audience screamed as the enemy was struck down by a ferocious lighting bolt, crippling him. Thiassi finished him off by summoning up a gigantic snow lizard which clawed vigorously at his scarred torso, tearing the soldier apart. The servants dragged the bloody corpse out of the arena and congratulated Thiassi for his victory.

Miraak stood and the whole crowd silenced.

"Now, this next contestant is a very... _special_... warrior. Ever since a she was child, she has desired to fight for the safety of Jotunheim and her loved ones. Although she has never gotten a chance to do so, the counsel and I have decided to give her that chance. Ladies and gentlemen, i present to you, Ari Dark-Wing!" the king announced. She struggled to hold back tears as she was called forwards into the center of the arena. How could life get any worse? She was about to face a Frost Giant warrior that probably had years of training when she barely had any. Standing up there in the middle of a 100,000 seat arena with 200,000 eyes focused on you and all those 200,000 eyes might just witness you dying, what could get worse? That was one of the only moments in Ari's life where she felt like she was going to die. So, why didn't she? Why didn't she just die of humiliation? Those questions rocketed through her head faster than a fire demon running from a blizzard.

As she reached the tunnel that leads from the dugout to the arena, before the gates opened, Miraak appeared behind her, "Hey, my little snowflake. I know you don't really have a weapon of your own, so I went down to the dwarves of Nidavellir and had them craft you this." He held out his arms to reveal a double-bladed dragon sword. "Don't worry, its detachable into two separate swords, but I had it crafted with the essence of Jotunheimr dragons. I did that so it would match your personality. Right, my Dragon Goddess?"

"Thank you, father... I never expected such a gift. I will use it to the best of my abilities. But, dad, is this a fight to the death?" Ari asked. "Well, that all depends. You see, if you kill him, then yes. If you are about to be killed, i will automatically stop the fight," he answered with a comforting smile, "Try your best, sweetheart." The gates opened and revealed her worst nightmare on the other side. Ektyn the Undefeated. Oh gods, what have I gotten into? His face was already covered in muck and beaded with sweat. Shivan described him many times, and all the times he did, he made him sound like a complete god. But then she remembered something that she had that he didn't. She was the god. An actual god. The Goddess of Dragons.

The unfortunate thing was, she couldn't figure out how to use her powers.

He raised his enormous ice club and prepared to strike, as did she and her sword. He unexpectedly struck the ground, sending shockwaves through the dirt floor. She faltered and dropped her blade, sending fear into her heart. He released a ferocious roar that signaled it was time to get bloody. He charged at her, unaffected by her place in the royal family. She scrambled to pick up her blade and sprinted out of his range, causing him to dramatically crash into the brick wall. "Arggghh!" Ektyn screamed as he swung his bloody club once again. It was hard to avoid his bulky attacks each time he charged at her with his black, pointed horns.

"Are you afraid, pinkie? _Fight me_."

"I'm never afraid to fight weaklings like you," she answered harshly as she spat on the ground near his feet.

He speedily launched himself into the air with a beast-like growl and crash landed right behind her, sending her rocketing across the arena, her sword going the opposite direction.

And everything went black.


	3. Bad Dreams

_She never knew real fear until that day. He charged at her, his bloody, spiked club threatening to knock the life out of her. Running was her only defense; the beast never seemed to show weakness. Life seemed to fade away before her; time slowing down, the screams of the audience dimming down to a mere blur in here ears. The bulky footsteps of Ektyn boomed each second as she sprinted helplessly through the stadium._

_Ari glanced up at her father and saddened as she saw the worried expression on Miraak's face. His eyes widened as he pointed to something to her right and mouthed, "Fire!"_

_She quickly spun around only to see her opponent wielding a torch that he must have snatched from the wall. He chucked it at her, along with his club. Thankfully, it missed her and hit the wooden fence that separated the fighters from the audience. She closed her eyes for about 5 seconds out of fear. As she opened them, everybody was gone. Worst of all, the entire place was on fire._

_The fire swarmed around her, engulfing her sword in a fiery inferno. Tears streamed from her face, acting as a second coat to her already sweating face. She tried to yell for help, but nothing came out. The fire closed in around her, torturing her skin with pinpricks of fire. Then, her clothes caught on fire. The ground oddly shifted underneath her, knocking her burnt yet still alive body to the ground. "Help..."_

She yanked herself awake, breathing in the fresh Jotunheim air. The problem was, it didn't seem normal; the air around her was warm.

She was laying in her bed, but it appeared to be midnight. Second of all, the air hurt her. Just like her dream, but this time she was in the castle, the building was on fire. She quickly scrambled out of bed, tearing the melted icepack off her forehead. She was still weak from the fight, but she ran for her life. She was wrong. The scariest moment in her life had been now.

The fire crackled upon the almost white, ice walls. What was worse than being trapped in a burning castle? Try being trapped in a burning castle with no idea how to navigate around it. It was her absolute wort nightmare, even worse than fighting Ektyn the Undefeated.

She ran down the smokey corridors, and the air got extremely thick and hard to breath. She wasn't even sure the air was made of oxygen anymore. Soon enough, she couldn't even see where she was going. _What the Hel could have started this horrid fire_ , she asked herself. She also wondered how they could have started the fire. There wasn't much wood in the castle; it was just ice and bronze. It wasn't long before she managed to get caught in the wild inferno. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she could hear the terrified yelps of livestock and trapped midnight maids.

Then, with a startling crack, the ceiling collapsed down behind her, sparks flying through the murky smoke. Its as if they were lights in a distant cave, floating around like fireflies. A column crashed down to the ground, and on top of her leg.

* * *


	4. A Change in Plans

The wind roared in Lettvind's pointed ears, something that he couldn't say he was very fond of. Ever since the queen decided to drop them off on the frozen realm of giants, everything has been a life-or-death situation. Blizzards were constantly threatening to wipe him off the face of the realm, and the mountain lions weren't especially as friendly as he hoped. The only heat available was his heavy elven armor, which teemed with sweat. With every step he took through the snow, a heavy inhale followed. Being a Dark Elf in the heart of Jotunheim was something almost no elf ever accomplished, but it did have its prices.

Although he dreaded the frigid terrain, he was not in favor of returning to his lonely forest bunker. When he was little, he was once told that adventure was out there. However, they never said wether that adventure would be enjoyable. Either way, he was still forced to set fire to the Jotunheim castle.

Lettvind had been sent with 2 other Svartalfar, all of which, including him, attempted to burn down the castle of ice. He wasn't very fond of the other elves, considering that they never really communicated with him directly. They were stationed somewhere up in the trees, watching as their comrade struggled to climb up the snowy hill.

_They're probably just sitting up there and laughing at me_ , he noticed angrily. Lettvind was thought of as an outcast, sent away for nothing. Finally, he reached the burning wall of the castle and shoved his long, tooth-like dagger through one of the ice blocks. He twisted it deep into the block, creating a gaping hole. releasing the dagger from its frozen brick, he implanted a familiar bomb inside the indent. Pressing a button on the bomb, he ran as the weapon began to electronically tick repeatedly.

_3, 2, 1..._

The bomb blasted a hole into the inside corridors, revealing the flaming boules of the castle. He rushed back to the hole and leaped through it. The remaining guards slashed their swords at him and nearly sliced his limbs off. One by one, he cut them down with his two daggers. The other elves rushed in, careless of the progress that he made. At first, they slipped around the frozen floor, struggling to keep their balance. "Do you not know what ice skating is, lads?" Lettvind teased. They gave him a look that meant "shut up or I'll kill you" and skated down the hallway.

He followed as required and tightened his grip on the daggers. His mask threatened to fall off, so he quickly locked it back into place on his black headwear. Locating and killing the king and queen of Jotunheim must have been a job for assassins, which was probably why he found it unusually impossible. The trio of Dark Elves occasionally scattered as columns fell. Soon enough, Lettvind and the rest noticed that they would have to find another way out due to the rubble left behind by each collapsing ceiling, stalagmite, arch, or pillar. If he escaped this mission alive, he would be considered a true hero. Since Lettvind didn't have a title yet, it would be an honor to receive the name "Lettvind Kingslayer". Life had been rough, and with starvation always creeping around every corner, he needed the honor. He did not care if the two others took some credit. _Dear Gods, this heat is making it seem hot even when I'm inside the core of a castle made of ice_! he thought.

"I'll check the rooms on the bottom while he takes the stables. Lettvind, you must check upstairs, where the bedrooms are. Kill all who stand in your way," one elf instructed. Lettvind nodded in approval as the two Svartalfar sprinted away. Checking the bedrooms upstairs would be a risky job, assuming thats where most of the people were. It was especially risky since the stairs were already giving out in the scorching heat. He dashed up the burning stairs, some steps collapsing under his weight. From there on, there was no turning back. As he skated down the dark hallway, his leather boots snagged on a few pieces of splintered ice. He tripped on the previously-smooth ground, and slid about a foot, then blood oozed from his left arm. He lifted himself back up, examining his exposed and torn skin. He growled as the flames stretched for him, engulfing the walls around him in an array of orange and red. He slipped around the upstairs corridors, bashing each thin, ice door with the tip of his long daggers. _No survivors_ , he noticed.

As blood seeped from his arm, he came across a small entrance to another hallway. The raging fire within made it feel like his pearl-colored mask was about to melt off onto his grey flesh. He unlatched his mask and wiped the sweat off his forehead and slowly clicked his mask into place again. Although he wasn't in favor of risking his life to check the few rooms that lay beyond the entrance, he had to go on. He charged through the inferno, the heated tongues licking at his wound. Again, he slipped onto his back, moaning in pain. He struggled to get up, and the fact that his arm was injured did not help. The ceiling crashed down behind him. He had a feeling that the mission was doomed to fail anyways. He trudged down the hallway, realizing that there was no use in searching the rooms.

As the crackling of the fire grew louder in his ears, he noticed a slight noise coming from the dead end of the hallway; choking.

Then, he _knew_ he had a chance at accomplishing something. He hurried over to the noise, faltering with each step. Then, the body was visible, but only a bit because the smoke was growing thick. It was an unconscious female Jotun who just happened to have the most beautiful horns ever. Although, he was not one to judge the shape of her horns; he thought as a Dark Elf, not a native Jotun, therefor he had no clue if her horns would be considered as 'beautiful' as he thought they were.

He inched closer and closer until he could see the features on her face, the color of her hair, and the clothes that she adorned. She wore a burnt white gown, and her hair was messy and dyed a light, light purple. He knelt down by her and softly brushed the ash off her face. Her skin... It was just as the rumors had spoked of. There was indeed a violet Jotun.

Although, there were probably many violet Jotun, he guessed. Just as the skin of elves was sometimes a deep grey. She was extraordinary. Her face was skinny and made with perfection. Something was stuck in her throat, causing her to choke uncontrollably. "Oh dear, what happened to you?" Lettvind whispered in her ear, knowing that she was unconscious.

Then, he noticed that her leg was caught under a fallen pillar. He pushed the pillar aside, releasing her delicate leg. Then, with hesitation, he lifted the Giant up, exposing lots of her skin under the tears that her gown had gone through. He now had to find a way out of the castle and save the girl. He glanced at a nearby door, and chucked his blade through the flames and shattered the door of ice. The ice shards flew across the floor, which would probably injure the next person to step within the glass-covered area.

It was a storage room; nothing but a few barrels, a broken bed, tons of crates, and about 4 bronze vases. Other than that, it was just an empty room. The ceiling crashes from behind them, causing three more pillars to block the way out. Then, a crack, and another and another. The entire hallway wall collapsed and left them trapped in the storage room. He ran for the window, cradling her in his arms.

The building erupted in flames as Lettvind nestled her deep into his arms and jumped out the window. He thudded to the ground, the unconscious Frost Giant landing softly on top of him.

* * *


	5. Lettvind No-Name

She woke up with the delightful feeling of something warm pressing up against her. _Amazingly_ warm. She lifted her arms to feel what the warm thing was, but to no avail, she was pinned to the snowy ground. Worst of all, she couldn't breath.

All of the sudden, something cold and sharp slid down her throat, probably scraping a bit of her neck. She forcibly sat up, coughing and holding her throat. The warm object had not been a something, it was a someone. And to her surprise, it was one of the morbid Dark Elves. She wasn't sure if it was good or bad, but it was previously pressed up against her, giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

"I'm terribly sorry. It's just that...there was a piece of ice stuck in your throat. I thought it would help to make you stop choking," the armored elf explained as he was laying on the ground after he was pushed aside, "Also, your leg was a bit caught under a fallen pillar." Ari looked down at her leg. It was scraped and bruised from the hard ice pressing on her skin. She coughed again, not ready to respond yet. Then, she slowly looked up at her savor. He was garbed in a black suit adorned with pearl armor, but it gleamed orange in the light of the flames. Its mask was also pearl-colored, but it resembled the Svartalfheim army.

She closed her eyes and frowned, "What happened?"

"A fire," it responded.

"Let me rephrase that: _why_ did it happen?"

"Well, it originally started with me and a few other elves ordered to set fire to the castle, but i guess it didn't go all that well as the queen thought it would."

Ari gazed at the burning castle, heartbroken that her childhood memories that lay inside the castle were burned to ashes. She could have done something about it, yet she was sprawled across the snowy forest ground, digging her fingers deep into the snow. "W-why would y-y-you save me? A Jotun princess? A hater of the Svartalfar?" Ari questioned it. Tears formed at the brim of her eyes. "Because," it started, "maybe we could, you know, kind of be, like, I don't know. Know each other, I guess?"

It stared at her, an emotionless mask blocking out all expressions. She stared back, dumbfounded. "You _idiot_ ," she hissed.

Ari threw herself onto the mysterious elf, pushing it back against the cold ground. Her hands grasped its shoulders, pinning it to the ground. "Who are you, elf? I know a liar when i see one. You're trying to murder me!"

"And why would I do that? I already failed my mission! If you really wish to know who I am, I'm 16-year-old Lettvind of Svartalfheim. And you are...?"

"Ari Dark-Wing, daughter of Miraak, princess of Jotunheim. Like you, I am indeed 16."

She pushed down on his shoulders harder, winning a grunt from Lettvind. "Could you at least be a little more kind to your savior? I do not wish to harm you at all, m'lady," he begged. She pulled a large piece of glass from the ground, holding it near Lettvind's armored throat. "Lettvind..." Ari warned, "Listen to me and do what I say and you shall live."

"First, take off your mask," she instructed, "Then, I need you to drop all your weapons."

She brought her hands to his breastplate to allow him arm movement. He slowly reached for his mask, Ari watching his every move. His fingers wrapped around the latches that held the mask into the headgear. Then, a small click emitted from the edges of his gleaming mask. Ari backed her head away, unknowing of what he might look like.

Then, he pulled his mask an inch from his face, revealing two beautiful, crystal-blue eyes. He lowered his mask to expose his perfect nose, and his small, elven lips. He was absolutely handsome, or at least in her view, for she loved the look of nerds. He placed his mask on the ground near his side. Lettvind smiled, an expression that fit his face perfectly. "I'm sorry. I must have scared you with the whole 'getting to know you' thing," he apologized. Ari shook her head. "I was never a fan of burning down the castle anyways. I just needed something to do in life, you know?"

She slapped him hard across the face. "Your such an idiot, a fool. This is not at act of kindness for _anybody_ , elf. Especially not my  You should be worshipping me for letting you live. Without me, there would be no you. And without you, none of this crap would be happening in the first place. Understand, Lettvind of Svartalfheim?" Ari snapped. He nodded violently in understanding, his blue eyes widening out of fear.

_Good. He knows to fear me_ , she thought. She pushed herself up and onto Lettvind's heaving chest. He grunted, but no one liked it when Frost Giants sat on their chest anyways. Ari put her fist to her chin, thinking of what to do about Lettvind. She could always throw him back on Svartalfheim, but she wanted to make him pay for his deeds. It might even be possible to lock him outside on a leash until he freezes to death, but he didn't seem like such a willing participant of the crime. Maybe he was willing to take a little trip to the dungeons, but how could she explain to her father without him getting slain?

She fingered under his pearl set of armor, tickling the black cloth beneath it in worry. How could this get past her father or mother? She was brain dead. Suddenly, her brain hatched a new idea. Maybe, once the fire settles down, she could sneak back into her room and tell Thiassi about Lettvind and how she needs to return him to his realm. His punishment could be staying in her room until she finds out how to tell Thiassi. It was absolutely foolproof in her eyes.

First, she instructed Lettvind to once again drop his weapons, which he immediately did. Next, she grabbed hold of the ears on his headpiece and yanked him off the ground painfully. She told him to stand right next to a large tree right next to the castle wall, which he also did without hesitation. "Now just stand still, or I will completely change my mind about letting you live," she said.

With a wave of her hand, ice slowly formed around his legs and feet, which slowly inched around his hands, then his arms, and his shoulders. Soon enough, Lettvind's entire body had been loosely frozen in a case of ice. The only thing that was completely loose was his neck and head which lay lazily against the tree. As she finished the final touches of freezing him to the tree for the night, she lay beside his feet, nestling in the roots of the tree until morning.

When she was about to fall asleep, he stirred one last time. "I'm sorry you hate me, Ari."


	6. Hostage

"Morning, m'lady."

She awoke in the same place she fell asleep, sprawled across the tree's gigantic roots. Her eyes struggled to focus in the bright morning light. Her arms were partially wrapped around Lettvind's armored feet, hugging them as if she cared for the elf. Thankfully, the only light that was present was the sunshine. The birds chirped their beautiful song, and the elk ran about. Sadly, the snow was painted in ash from the fire.

She glanced up at the castle windows, her eyes wide open and afraid that the fire was still raging inside. "It's ok, Ari, the fire has subsided," Lettvind assured her calmly. "In fact, I am pretty sure it died off hours ago."

"What? How long have you been up? What time is it?" Ari questioned speedily. "If only I had a watch so I could answer those questions," he said. He laughed a little, "And I have to say, if I did have a watch, it would be mighty hard to see it when I can't even lift my hand." Ari snorted in humorous agreement. She sat up sharply, realizing that everything in the castle and her room had a good chance of being destroyed. Then she gasped and remembered that her family could be gone. Ari forced herself up, harshly grabbing onto Lettvind.

"Ari, calm down. I bet everything's going to be okay. Will you unfreeze me so we can go see if everything is good?" Lettvind asked. She looked up at him, sorrow in her ruby eyes. Tears rushed down her cheeks and painted her chin in its glossy presence. Her violet face turned dark purple as she cried softly onto his feet, arms still tightly grasping them. Her tears melted away the ice that twisted around his boots. Ari reached her hands towards Lettvind's chest, liquifying the frozen cocoon. Once he was finally free of the ice, Ari grabbed his arm and told him to follow her no matter what happened.

* * *

They reached the entrance to the castle; it was as cooked as the salmon at the Blodisen Festival. She still had her hand tightly wrapped around Lettvind's armored arm. His mask had been placed back into the headgear, and he was still soaking wet from the melted ice. Ari placed her hand on the door, half expecting to burn herself. Then, with a push, the door opened and scraped across the floor, ruining the frozen tiles.

The inside to the castle was burnt, just as Ari's heart was broken. The ground was patched in black spots, and the decorative snowberries that were placed upon the pots on the walls were gone, and so were the pots. The small tables and benches put randomly around the castle were either melted or deformed, depending on their material.

Lettvind put his hand on her shoulder to comfort the princess, but she wiped it off in disgust. The tears were still warm on her face and Lettvind did not seem to like their presence. She inched through the door, each foot leaving a print on the ashy floors. The hallways were silent, not a poller bear roar to be heard. The only sign of noise was her faint crying. _My childhood is gone_ , Ari knew. She walked to the throne room, dragging her feet. Lettvind's arm was still painfully clutched in her left hand. _And it's all his fault_ , she finished her thought as anger flooded back into her system.

She let go of his arm, and he immediately started rubbing it to get the circulation back in it. Ari strutted up to the spiked throne and dusted the debris from the seat. She knew well that her father would be sitting on the throne if he was okay by now. What would she do if he was killed?

She stepped down from the throne area and grabbed Lettvind on the arm again, pulling him out of the room. The corridors were not completely ruined; they were still livable, and so were most of the rooms. When they got to the destroyed stairs, Ari stuck out her hands and reached down for the first step. Ice formed up and around the block. Once again, she proved her Frost Giant abilities amazingly useful. Soon enough, the stairs were whole again, leading towards the second story of the castle. Ari looked back at Lettvind, noticing that he and the other elves were the ones that collapsed the stairs. "Destructive, you elves are, bashing down the stairs and all," she commented spitefully. Lettvind opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it, afraid that his words might result in a horrible punishment. His mask still covered his face, but Ari knew his every move. She carefully stepped up the stairs, helping up the Dark Elf every time he slipped on the ice.

Yes, she did despise him deeply, but it was obvious; he always tried to keep her safe. Soon, they reached the crushed entrance to the same hallway he found her in.

"Are you sure this is the one?" Ari asked. "Yes, of course it is. I remember me falling and scraping myself over there"- he pointed to a large needlelike stalagmite- "and you were laying somewhere near that fallen pillar." She leaped over the piled rubble. Across from a broken door was another entrance to another hallway. Lettvind was utterly surprised he never saw it while racing through the fire. The entrance to the hallway was unlike the others. It was decorated in ice sculptors made in the shape of Jotunheim's extravagant dragons. They curled up the few pillars that remained.

Each lizard held a different expression, their humanoid faces striking fear into the core of the Dark Elf. Each pair of frozen eyes seem to gaze deep into his soul. Lettvind took his time to observe the realistic artworks, double checking that they were only ice sculptures; he could of sworn he saw one move out of the corner of his eye.

Ari grunted in exhaustion in the distance. A sudden crack filled the eerie, black hallway and Ari yelled in her tongue, " _Djösh_!" Lettvind gave her a look of confusion. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just a curse in Jotun. Are you too daft too see that I'm struggling? For goodness sake, help!"

He hurried over to her, wrapping his arm around an ice block which she was trying to relocate. On three, they lifted the block, tossing it violently across the hallway. Ari brushed off some ash that lay clustered upon a door that the ice block was blocking. The entryway to the room once again glittered with the terrifying ice dragons, their faces twisted and nasty. Home sweet home, she thought. She pressed her hand down on the front of the door, feeling its intricate surface. She hastily grabbed a shard off the floor and slid it deep into the crack between the doors. With her hands positioned at the tip of the solid ice, she shoved it left and right, slowly opening the doors and clearing all extra ice that melted between the doors, sealing them shut. Another crack split the air, startling Lettvind.

As distracted as Lettvind was by the mere demolition of the walls and pillars, he still tried to assist Ari. Finally, after cracking the remaining frost from the door, she shoved it open, revealing its exotic inside. Purple everywhere.

The room consisted of beautiful clay sculptures of strange serpents- mostly dragons- and flawless velvet furniture. It looked as if it was designed by Midgardians. It was amazingly funky and bright and sparkled with traces of purple. The light made her eyes turn from a deep maroon to a ruby color, lighting up with hope and thankfulness. The room was definitely livable due to the small burns here and there. The only noticeable thing was that the curtains and parts of the sheets were burnt down to nothing but ashes. The ice pack that she had threw on the floor in the night before was still positioned on the frozen floor, jiggling with each blow of wind that emitted from the balcony. Noticing this, Ari hurried over to the balcony door, slamming it shut and locking it.

"Come in, elf," she commanded. Lettvind walked in and stood at a wall near her bed. "Sit," she continued. He plopped himself down lazily onto the gigantic bed. Ari then sped across the room only to seal the bedroom door shut and flick a switch on the wall, enabling some sort magical aura to float around the bedroom walls. "Soundproof magic? Impressive," he admitted. Ari stared at him, releasing an animalistic growl.

She grabbed one half of double bladed sword from off the shelf, stretching her arm to full length and holding the tip to his neck. "This again? Oh come on, princess. Can you at least show some effective threats? This will win you nothing," he taunted. His thick Elven accent showed its full potential. "Who are you?" she asked sternly.

"Forget much? I told you last night, fool."

"You are a bad liar, Lettvind. Or whatever your real name is."

"My name is Lettvind. I have no last name, because I have no place in Svartalfheim and no parents. While I will tell you as much as I know about Svartalfheim, I may not tell you anything else about me or my blood."

"Why not? Are you afraid, _Lettvind_?"

"Afraid? For your information, Dark Elves feel no fear. We are a strong, proud race that has ne-"

Ari placed her bare hand on the flesh of his ear, watching as his skin turned a dark blue. He screamed in pain as frostbite formed around his skin, stretching slowly onto his face. Lettvind violently ripped off his mask, revealing the growing blue virus. "Oh really?" Ari teased. He was close to shedding tears, she could tell. She finally let go of his frozen ear. He was screaming unidentifiable words that echoed throughout the large room, showing that the pain was less bearable than she planned. She shushed him, placing her hand back on his ear, making the blue burns vanish from his skin. His screams turned to a soft mumbling, something that wasn't common for Dark Elves.

" _Weakling_ ," she spat harshly. He snapped his mask back on and shook his head hesitantly. "Do you know why I let you live, Lettvind? Do you know why I do this?" No answer. "It's because I utterly hate you. Everything you do makes me hate you more than possible. If you think you can just leisurely walk into my realm and burn down the castle, you're a pure, daft idiot. Nothing you do will impress me. You know why?"

"Why...?"

"You're a monster. You may think of us as monsters because of our towering build and pointy horns, but that's nothing compared to the likes of a Dark Elf. I hope you notice that your kind is called Dark for a reason."

He twitched at this, letting his hope of escaping fly out the window and into a frozen world of death. It seemed as if the roots of life had finally found its axe, every leaf and branch reduced to a useless wooden keepsake that would eventually be destroyed. He was staring death in the eyes, the future reason of his decease. Years from now, maybe even hours, his gravestone would be imprinted with the words, "DEATH BY JOTUN". It was every elves' nightmare to be slain by a giant, and a disgrace if it were to happen.

She knelt down to the bed, and leaned forwards so that the only thing keeping her from touching his mask was an inch of air. She whispered to his very face, "From now on, you will be kept here in this room for the rest of your life. You are now my prisoner, my slave, my enemy. You will serve my every need, no matter how undesirable. You will do everything I tell you to do. No one shall know about you, and no one shall speak of you. Got it, elf?"

She pulled away after he briskly nodded, panicking as her eyes glowed blood-red, emitting an unnatural glow. She raised her hand, signaling him to stay put. Then, there was a rapid knocking at the door. Her name was being called in a familiar voice, "Ari? Ari are you in there, sweetheart?!"

It was her father.

She sped over to the door, undoing the lock and switched the soundproof switch to off. She snuck out the door to be greeted by a gigantic hug by him and Kjer. Their previous tears left wet lines down their ash covered faces. However, Kjer showed no signs of crying. They engulfed her in their manly arms, squeezing her out of pure love. Love was all she needed right now, and the stress that Lettvind put on her didn't help the situation. "Where's Saraphina and Shivan?" Ari asked immediately. They hugged her tighter, signaling their worry. "Shivan is downstairs checking for more survivors. As for mother, we don't know. We've been searching for her all morning. We... Well, we're afraid she was killed in the fire," he stated. Her stomach twisted in grief, and the news stung her ears like screeching chalk on a chalkboard.

Miraak continued to inform her of all the survivors that they collected downstairs and that only about 1/10th of the castle rooms were ruined. The damage of the fire seemed as nothing but a mere accident, or so he believed. He also blamed the fire on the cooks and would have them immediately executed for their 'crimes'.

After an hour or so, they went back to their rooms and talked, but she made sure they didn't enter her room.

She decided not to tell anybody about Lettvind.


	7. False Teachings

She made the mistake of keeping Lettvind off his usual leash for the night. The first night he stayed in her room after the fire, he was kept on a leash and lived in her large, empty dressing room. He still refused to inform her of the attacks or his history, but that only earned him more nights on the leash. But on yesterday, he seemed increasingly nice to her, showing every bit of respect there was to offer. 

However, the reward of letting him off the leash has a stranger outcome than Ari expected.

She awoke to the faint sound of snoring, something that didn't seem to bother her. The only thing that did bother her was the fact that Lettvind was supposed to be sleeping in the dressing room as normal. She lifted up her torso just enough to lazily gaze around the room, looking for Lettvind. To her surprise, he was curled up next next to her, nestling into the thick blankets. His mask was off, and so was most of his armor, but the black jumpsuit remained. 

She reached over and gently pulled the blankets off of him, trying not to wake the sleeping elf. Upon his left arm was a gigantic rip in the cloth, exposing a cut that was desperately in need of stitches. She flinched at the gory sight of it. _Dang it. He's going to need stitches on this,_ Ari noticed. With enormous hesitation, she stroked his delicate arm, watching as he wiggled under her cold touch. She enjoyed treating him as her personal pet, because, of course, he was. Soon, she got comfortable with her soft strokes, and started to slowly advanced to massaging his tense yet tiny hand. 

He twitched once, then again. He sleepily opened his left eye, unaware of his surroundings. " _Vrine'winith ol, Solv. Nindol zhah'na fa'narow,_ " he mumbled in annoyance. He closed his eyes again, frowning in disappointment. Then, he shot open his eyes and rapidly tried to escape from Ari. He was scrambling on the bed, afraid he did something wrong. " _F'sarn taudl! F'sarn taudl!_ " Lettvind cried out. 

"Lettvind, I can't understand you when you talk like that. English, please," she said tiredly, not ready for her daily chastising. The terrified look did not vanish from his face. " _Taudl_ , Ari," he mumbled, "Oh, it means sorry. _Taudl_ means sorry in Drowish. I'm sorry, Ari."

Suddenly, her soft expression turned to one of anger and humiliation. She scolded him for snuggling up to her, telling him that he was a pet, not a friend. She ran into the dressing room and returned with the black, leather leash. Lettvind screamed things out in his tongue once again, confusing and angering Ari. 

She commanded him to stay still or she would kill him, and he fearfully obeyed. He was dragged into the dressing room and she hastily locked the door behind him. Once again, she decided to turn the soundproofing on. 

Hours seemed to pass as she sat down on her bed, facing the door. At first, there was a slight pounding. As time went on, there was an abrupt and utter silence as the banging stopped. It remained that way for hours until she finally decided to drift back into sleep. 

* * *

When she woke up, _she_ was the one being stroked this time. Thankfully, it wasn't Lettvind. Kjer was seated next to her on the bed, rubbing her head with the same soothing motion that she had on Lettvind. He kissed her forehead, sending a relaxing spell flowing through her limp body. She smiled at his presence, him returning the favor. "Hello, my sweet sister. Good morning."

He always reminded her of some peaceful monk, never raising his voice and doing whatever was right for the people of Jotunheim. His voice sounded smooth and clear, reminding her of rivers made of honey. He continued to massage her head, making minutes feel like seconds. 

"We should go downstairs. They're serving breakfast. It's sausage and faerie blood; your favorite," he whispered. She nodded and said," I'll be right down. Okay?". He put an arm under her and pushed her up a tad. He showed a suspicious smile. She didn't question it, though; she was only interested in eating right now. Then, he got up and slowly walked away. On his way out, he gave Ari the same smile but this time bigger. He slipped out the door and silently into the hallway. 

A minute after she got comfy and stretched her way out of bed, she dressed herself in her normal, brown, velvet dress that she wore in the mornings. It was mighty hard to find clothes that matched her unique violet skin. She combed her light hair and put on her elk hide slippers. Before she left, Ari turned to the dressing room door, wondering if she should ask what food the Dark Elf weakling wanted. _Since when did the pet choose what to eat?_ she thought and giggled aloud. 

Ari made her way out the door and into the hallway, making sure to lock the door on the way out. She merrily walked down the corridors to the downstairs dining hall. On the way down, she took her time to observe the beautiful repair that the builders have done. Each spot looked unburnt, glossy, and better than ever. She was only 3 hallways away when she could hear the hypnotic music of the bard echoing through the building.

"Aye, sister! We have extraordinary news to share! Come, princess!" Shivan joyfully yelled. He signaled her to sit in a seat next to Kjer. Kjer had the same mischievous grin as when he was in Ari's room, his usually peaceful face turning into one of surprise and impatience. She sat directly next to him, stealing one of his mini muffins. "You won't be able to do that for much longer, Ari. Kjer has something to say," the king said. The room went silent and Kjer opened his mouth to speak after swallowing one of his mini muffins. 

"I believe this might be too early in Miraak's rule to hand over the throne, but my beliefs do not stop the king from making his wise decisions," he started, "Due to the previous fire and me being the first born, our beloved king has chosen me as his successor."

Ari's mouth dropped with awe, and so did some of the other guests. _This early?_ Ari thought. It was far too early in her father's life to hand over the throne already, but she did not argue. This was a life changing decision, she knew, but who ever said it would be a good decision? He could lead them into battle with his inexperience, but he didn't seem the type to do that. His peace-loving mind could get them all killed if he wasn't careful. Her mind spun with boatloads of questions, each one threatening to unexpectedly explode out of her mouth. 

Then, without noticing, she blurted out, "When will the coronation be?" They told her it would be quite soon, three days in fact. Three days until the coronation meant three days of worry, suspense, and stress. Three days of Lettvind. Life seemed to slow down when they told her that she must attend the coronation, no matter what happened. Miraak explained how rude it would be to skip it, and it could possibly end in consequence. 

They ate and talked, talked and ate. Sometimes, the promise of food cleared Ari's mind. Other times, it remained a useless variable to her situations. This time, it did nothing but heighten her worries. The long talks gave her time to relax and think about some positive outcomes of having Kjer as the king of Jotunheim. Kjer was obviously trying to make his last few days of being prince good ones, but she could still see the nervousness in his eyes. 

In the middle of the morning feast, she finally remembered that Lettvind was still trapped in her dressing room, alone and hungry. Ari lied, "I'm a bit full, Shivan. Do you mind if I take some food up to my room to eat later?" He nodded gleefully, his shaggy hair bouncing with each motion. Shivan immediately turned back to the table full of laughter and messy meals. As quickly as she could, she grabbed whatever she could and rushed down the hallways to her room.

She locked her bedroom door and flicked the soundproofing switch. Then, she slowly approached the middle of her room, carrying the sloppy array of tasty Jotunheim delicacies. She placed them down in the center of the floor, crumbs flying everywhere. Then, she assorted the purified faerie blood, fried lizard tails, cooked salmon meat, and vanilla mini muffins on a small, bronze plate. She tiptoed over to the dressing room door, carefully wrapping her large yet thin, violet hand around the knob. She unlocked the door with her other hand, making sure to do it carefully, because Lettvind still might be sleeping. When she opened the door, the lights were still off as she had left them. Right in front of the door, Lettvind sat indian style, his crystal eyes glaring deep into her soul. However, his eyes were not full of anger or frustration, but with a heart-wrenching sadness. Ari hated to see even _him_ acting like this.

She knelt down to his level whispered, "Lettvind, come eat. I can't have a starving Dark Elf living in my dressing room." He shook his head weakly. "We can talk nicely, if you like." He still refused, ducking his head into his chest. Then, he covered himself with his arms as if bracing for impact. "No, no, no. C'mon. Food is waiting for you," she said as kindly as she could. His head shook once again under his arms. 

"Whatever," Ari whispered, brewing up a plan, "I can wait." She stumbled over to her bed and lay down, watching to see what Lettvind would do. She closed her eyes only to hear the elf push himself up and tiptoe over to the food. About a minute later, she heard crunching. Then, it stopped. She quickly sprung off her bed to see Lettvind coughing up and spitting out the snacks. At the sight of this, she slid down next to him, scaring the heck out of him. He jumped, falling onto his back out of the indian style sitting position. 

Ari raised her hands, signaling him to calm down. He smiled cautiously, taking another bite of a vanilla mini muffin. "What? You told me to eat, so I shall eat," he explained. "Let's talk," she started, "So, Lettvind, where are you from? Are you well known?"

"Call me Letty. I live in Svartalfheim, the Stone Forest. No, about nobody knows who I am."

"Well, you said _about_ nobody, so who is the about part?"

"My two friends, Drepe and Solv. Why so interested?" 

"Who are they?"

"My friends," he stared at her as if she had a million eyes. Lettvind glared at the faerie blood, staring it down as if it was poisonous. She then noticed that he despised the faerie blood, and that was the thing that he previously spit out. Ari moved it out to the side, off the platter of food. Then she spoke again, "I mean, what are they like? Come on, Letty. Why can't we have a nice conversation?"

"Okay, fine. Solv is the same age as me, and so is Drepe. Solv is more of a... _nerdy_... elf, while Drepe is the muscular, bulky one. He tends to be a little bossy at times though. As for Solv, he's kind and funny. He's one of the darker skins, though. I mean he looks like Algrim, if you know who that is."

"Yes, I know exactly who Algrim is. I also know a good bit of Malekith also."

Lettvind flinched on the last sentence, his breathing uneasy. Ari stared into his eyes, watching as they flickered around the room. He mumbled something under his breath, and it seemed to be directed to her, but Ari signaled him to say it aloud once more. 

" _Tell me what you know, Jotun._ "

"I've only been taught a bit about the two Dark Elves, but I know for sure that Malekith is considered the worst Dark Elf monarch. Algrim was basically his servant, right? They attacked Midgard, nearly killed that Jotun, Loki, and attempted to set off that weird red liquid. I think it was called the Aether. They both died in the process, never had kids, blah, blah, blah. I guess thats all I know."

"False."

"Oh, my mistake. Did I miss anything?"

"Aye, quite a bit. You also lied a few times."

"Explain, Dark Elf."

"Not now, soon. I will reveal the secrets once Solv and Drepe are here to prove what I shall say."

"I hope you don't plan on bringing them here. I'll slay you myself if you contact them!"

"Oh, don't worry. I won't bring them here, they always find a way to get to me. It takes a day or so, though."

"Scratch that. How will they get here? The castle is heavily guarded and the ice is as hard as ever; it's impossible to sneak in."

A catastrophic smile escaped his grey lips and his eyes narrowed, showing his troublemaker side. He giggled and tilted his head. Finally, he pointed out, "You have a balcony, do you not?"


	8. Grey Skin, Golden Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beyond sorry that I have not been updating recently! I have all 29 chapters (and counting) on another site, but it's mighty hard to transfer them. 
> 
> I won't give up! :)

It was approximately 30 minutes after their talk, and Lettvind was back in the dressing room. Ari was on her bed, drifting off into a deep sleep. He wished he could have eaten more than he did, for his stomach felt like it was about ready to devour itself. He sat in the far corner of the room, occupying himself with a piece of lace that he found. 

Every once in a while, he would moan our her name, waiting to see if she would respond. Pretty soon, the hunger turned into an aching want, a _need_. He lay there, groaning on the dressing room floor. Not only was he hungry, but he was overheating. At one point, he decided to take off his breastplate. Apparently, that did not shield him from the heat. Soon, he found himself spread out on the floor, shirtless. He fanned himself with his mask, savoring each cool breeze that hit him. 

Then, he unbelievably took off his black headgear that wrapped around half of his exposed torso. On the inside of each long arm that clung it to his body was tubelike needles. When the headgear was worn, the needles would be pushed through the skin, regulating the oxygen he receives. It was vital to wear them in atmospheres majorly different than the the poisonous Svartalfheim atmosphere, such as Muspalheim and Vanaheim. If they were not worn under such conditions, it could result in horrible health, or perhaps death. 

At first, he struggled to breath, finding it hard to gather oxygen in the thin air of Jotunheim. Sadly, the pressure got to him, and nosebleeds started occurring. Lettvind knew that he would get used to the atmosphere soon if not now. He did nothing more than wipe the blood off on his dangling sleeve, not caring for the cloth. _I have to find a way out, this hunger and heat is driving me mad,_ he thought. 

He headed for the door, sweat pouring down his messy braids. He banged on the door, his weak voice screaming her name as loud as his lungs would allow. He tried the doorknob; it was unlocked. 

_Thank the gods!_ thought Lettvind. He stumbled out the door, the burst of cold stinging his sweaty flesh. The first thing he ran for was the leftover food, still scrambled on the stone floor. He didn't care what he shoved in his mouth, as long as it was edible. The faerie blood dripped down his chin while he slurped it up messily. As he finished his meal, the floor was coated in crumbs and the exotic blood.

Thankfully, Ari was still sound asleep on her bed, not a snore to be heard. He once again wiped his mouth and chin with a the cloth of his dangling jumpsuit. Then, he wrapped the hanging clothes around his waist. At first, he lay on the ground, thankful for Ari making the mistake of not locking the door. Then, he realized that the floor had gotten too cold. Lettvind moved himself to Ari's bed, laying down on the soft sheets. He once again cuddled behind her, brushing his hands through her salmon hair.

She was too deep in her sleep to notice him. He slid his hands onto her two, magnificent, pointed horns. They were brown in color, something that matched her dress and slippers. His hands rubbed them, feeling their smooth, shell-like outside. They wrapped around her head and ended 3/4 of the way around. From there, they pointed up, reminding him of a backwards tiara. He had a deep desire to wake her and inform her further about his life, who he is, and the _secret_. 

Although Lettvind wanted to, he couldn't. At least, not until Solv and Drepe were there. His stomach filled with nervousness. Would she accept the secret that he had been holding in for years?

"Letty...? _Letty!_ What are you doing outside your room? And in my bed?" Ari noticed, still partly asleep. She smacked his hands off her left horn, where he was holding, feeling its smooth texture. "Get off of me! You're disgusting; you're pressed up against me, shirtless, and feeling my horns, which is incredibly rude in Jotun society. Plus, you have some blood dripping down your nose. What's wrong with you?"

"It was boiling in there, and I got hungry. I barely ate when I was having that conversation with you, so don't expect me to be full. I'm fine now, so don't worry."

"Explain why you thought my horns were so interesting."

"I've never seen a creature with such brilliant horns. Jotuns are just interesting in my eyes. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"No, not at all. Ugh, sorry, I suppose I should get up again."

"Dont be sorry, Ari; you did nothing wrong."

The two 16 year olds stared into each other's eyes, wonder emitting from both. Lettvind kindly smiled, showing his pearl-white teeth. Grinning, he said, "I really believe you'll like Solv. Yes, he's a Dark Elf, but he's a kindhearted Dark Elf. I've known him for about 7 years now, so he's practically my best friend."

"Can we reach out to them now? If we do it any later, Kjer will notice two Drow sneaking into his coronation, so we have to make sure that won't happen."

"I guess so, but if we contact them now, they'll show up tomorrow." 

Reaching into his pocket, which she didn't even know existed on the black jumpsuit, he pulled out an outlandish device. It clicked a few times, then peeled open into some sort of phone. It made all kinds of electronic noises, none of which she favored hearing. Each word on the screen glowed in a greenish color, but the words were nothing but unidentifiable Drowish. Soon enough, there were icons, some of which she laughed at. Then, she noticed that they were apps. Ari recognized one, "You have Instagram?" He nodded slowly, his face stern. Lettvind swiped into an application on the screen, but to her, the objects on the screen seemed like nonsense. Specific words were now outlined in a ghostly blue. _Contacts_ , she noticed. 

He clicked on one, illuminating a square around the symbols. He used his thumbs to quickly type something in a box underneath the contact, and the same thing with another contact. Ari watched in amazement as each weird letter was sent into the device's glowing box. Soon, he looked up, his eyes shining sky blue. 

She took the time to stare back, amazement flourishing within her. Then, she let some of her feelings flow out, "How is it that your eyes are so brilliant? I've never seen anything like them." Lettvind blushed, his face turning redder than she expected through his pale, grey skin. He decided not to answer, but just slightly yet politely shrug. "It is done," he said, changing the short subject. 

She refused to change the subject. "Letty, you're a freak of nature. Not just you're look, but your gadgets and stuff. Yet, your looks still amaze me. Not that I like you or anything. After all, we're just friends," Ari laughed. "Thank you, princess, but you also amaze me to no limits. Your horns are so unique... And your eyes remind me of rubies; spectacular and glittering with hope," he complimented back, showing a friendly smile. They both shyly giggled, still staring at each other. 

Then, Lettvind held out his arms, offering something that Ari did not expect. Although she didn't think about it, she smiled. "Friend hug?" the Dark Elf offered. Ari leaned in, stretching her arms around his lean body.

Then, they hugged, as none of their kinds ever had before.


	9. Meet the Outcasts

Ari awoke once again with Lettvind cuddling next to her, but this time his arms were wrapped around her. She didn't mind it this time, but instead she cuddled right back into him. Of course, though, his arms were not near as long as they needed to be to stretch fully around her. Being a 7 foot Frost Giant had its advantages.

The snow eagles cawed like usual, a beautiful sound to the ears. Sunlight shined through the balcony door windows and through the curtains. Outside, the wind blew at a soothing pace, blowing magnificently through the waving trees. Snow fluttered down from the sky, glittering with their white, adoring brilliance. The weather was perfect, the sky was gleaming with white specks, and Lettvind was next to her, making her feel like today was a day to utterly enjoy. 

"Ari, you let me sleep like this all night?" Lettvind whispered, "Impressive." Ari didn't care, but she laughed. She was in quite a giggly mood, despite Lettvind's horn-touching rudeness. Then, unexpectedly, there was a bird's chirping coming from _within_ her room. "Why's there a bird in here? Isn't the balcony-" she gasped as she noticed that the balcony door was open, and the curtains were messily pushed aside. Light poured in from the gap where the curtains previously were. She nestled deeper into Lettvind's arms, afraid of what could of happened. "Oh, they must be early," he sighed, slightly relieving Ari. "Your two Dark Elf friends? Where in the nine realms are they?" Ari whispered, afraid she might alert something lurking in the early morning shadows. "Do not worry, I'll go see, because _usstan che dos_ ," he assured her. She did not question the Drowish in his sentence.

He unwrapped his arms from Ari and slowly slipped out of bed. He stepped around the bed, then the entire room, the frozen tiles nipping at his warm feet. At last he got to the dressing room, and the door was partly open. _Don't open it_ , Ari thought, remembering all the horror movies that her father had introduced her to. Using his finger tips, the door creaked open, sliding across the tiles. To his expectations, the room was pitch black. Then, there was a voice. 

" _Lettvind, dos tahta l'oloth doeb d'uns'aa!_ " something yelled from inside. Lettvind jumped, understanding the voice. Then, Lettvind and the mysterious voice conversed. "What is it saying?" she asked desperately. "It's just Solv. He didn't know where to rest, so he ended up in the dressing room because somebody walked in, I think. Or at least, that's what he's saying."

"What?! Who walked in?!" Ari blurted. With each strange answer that Solv gave from within the dressing room, Lettvind translated back. He said, "How should I know? It was pitch black in here." 

"Then how would you know somebody walked in?"

"The door opened and footsteps commenced, but it couldn't have been you guys. Besides, I couldn't even _see_ you two!"

She pondered for a second on the thought of someone seeing a Dark Elf crawling throughout her room. She was definitely not optimistic when it came to these kind of things. Then, she signaled Lettvind to bring out Solv with a wave of her large, violet hand. "I'm warning you, he does not speak any bit of English or Jotun, so I will have to translate," he spoke. Lettvind entered the dressing room, his arms extended and feeling around until he was out of her sight. About ten minutes later, he came out, holding a smaller, yet thinner elf. 

The elf mumbled something in Drowish, obviously directing it to Ari as he stood up. His voice was a higher, more rigid type than Lettvind's deep voice. He waved his arms in a polite manner as each word was said. The braids that streamed down his back were neat and smooth, each hair aligned with perfect precision. "I am Solv, a 16 year old warrior of the Dark Elves and best friend of Lettvind and Drepe," Lettvind translated, "It is an honor to meet you, your Highness." He was garbed in the same black and pearl armor that Lettvind was when she first met him; not a speck to be found on the perfect outfit and his mask was positioned flawlessly on his black headgear that wrapped around his head and chest. His face wasn't visible, but she could tell he was a fair man. Ari responded with the kindest words she could think of, "Thank you, Solv, but there is no need for such formalities with me. I'm not the queen, so treat me as such. Although, I find your presence welcoming and your friend a fantastic companion. I hope you will prove the same." 

Lettvind whispered into Solv's pointed ear, reciting her words in his tongue. Then, Solv reached for his mask, slowly unlatching the alien mechanics that held it together. He pulled it off quickly, showing his dark-skinned face. _Holy crap! He looks just like Algrim_ , she noticed. His face was slimmer than Lettvind's, but his eyes were an olive green that were so bright they practically glowed. Just like all other Svartalfar, jet black replaced the white of his eye. She was shocked at the resemblance of Algrim the Strong. "You look just like a mini Alrgim!" Ari let her offensive comment slide out, laughing. Lettvind translated the words to Solv. His face saddened, as if her words hit him like a brick, shattering his smile into a million pieces of sorrow. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that at all, Solv."

"He's sensitive, Ari. Don't say things like that. He gets tougher as you get to know him," her English-speaking friend explained. They continued to talk; her speaking to Lettvind, him translating it to Solv, and so on. Then, another Dark Elf appeared from the dressing room. " _Vel'bol'zhah aluin pholor?_ " it asked. "It's just Drepe," Lettvind said, "Explain to him what's going on. Once you get to know them both, I can start the _Sharwh'li_." "What the heck is _Sharwh'li_?" she asked, narrowing her maroon eyes. 

He whispered into Drepe's pointed ear, his nose almost poking his headgear. Drepe nodded, whispering back into Lettvind's ear. "It means Mind Whisper, fair Jotun. It's how we transfer our secrets and memories, assuming that whispering physically could expose who we truly are. Although, once you have access to one's mind, you have access to their thoughts consistently if they do not have defense against spies," he translated. He two removed his mask, but his skin was a dark grey, unlike Lettvind who bear light grey skin. His eyes were brown, nothing exiting or glittering. He was muscular and bully-like, his fierce face set into a devilish grin. He said something directly to her in his clear, kingly voice. As he did, his eyes narrowed and his smile grew evermore handsome. "He called you beautifully entrancing, and hair like streams of violet moonlight." "Dont get too entranced, Drepe. First of all, my hair is black. Death black. My skin is purple, but the light in here makes it look like the normal Jotun blue. I'm only 16 and you look way older than me, so don't even think about liking me anything more than a friend," she snapped into his Dark Elf face. 

Lettvind translated it, and Drepe grunted in anger. He said something and Lettvind said it back as, "Never mind, turns out you aren't as pretty as I hoped. By the way, I'm 16. I'd rather date a Muspelheimian Demon than you. At least they have a prettier mind than you." Drepe chuckled meanly as the words slipped harshly out of Lettvind's mouth. Ari saddened her face in spite to make Drepe feel bad. "That doesn't work," Lettvind translated. 

She didn't apologize, but instead she grunted back, "I don't like elves anyways, Drepe." 

"Alright, can we talk about our plan for tomorrow? Whoever saw you guys sneak in is bound to tell the king," Lettvind said, trying to urgently change the argument to a conversation. "Yeah, I guess we might have to focus in this... It could get you guys killed if we don't fix this. What the Hel can we do to help this?" Ari asked, realizing the problem. 

"Sharwh'li might help us with this. Tomorrow we can do it, but it will take precious time." 

"Whatever. All you guys can spend the night on the bed, which is much comfier than that old dressing room. Got it?"

They all nodded after Lettvind translated her instructions. They took a moment to soak up the silence and sunlight that engulfed them. Solv said something in his soothing, high pitched voice which his friend gladly translated, "You know, I've never seen morning sunlight before. Svartalfheim is too far from the sun, unlike Jotunheim, which is blessed with day and night. I have a feeling that I might enjoy staying here."


End file.
